“Yeah.” I show her the empty cuff dangling from the end of my arm. Making a show of it, I put my hands behind my back and manacle my wrists together. “Let me make it easy on you.”

She helps me to my feet. I needed the help.

“You’ve got to go down for this. You know that.” She walks me to the cruiser and puts me in. When she does that cop-move and presses my head down and through the door, her touch is gentle, motherly. She almost sounds reluctant when she says it again.

“You know you’re going away for a long time, right? Hey, you hear me, Starks?”

I hear the words, all right, but I don’t care. They are like light from an extinct star that arrives thousands of years too late to mean anything. It’s already done with, I think. That star’s got nothing left. Neither do I.

Snitching

Snitching

At the station they give me some coffee that tastes like cigarettes and attic. During interrogation I am very agreeable. They ask a bunch of leading questions, they pose many accusations, and I don’t resist any of it. I say yes to everything. Yes, I was the mang on the Angkor Wat job, I say. Ditto Entemena. Ditto Inanna and the K’plua and any other job you say. Yes, I’ve been involved with the Rat Burglar from the start. Yes, I used my inside connection with Janus to target vulnerable MacGuffins. Yes, I assaulted George Schermer because I wanted to cut him out of his share. Yes, I murdered Jimmy the Hat for the same reason. You want to book me for larceny, assault, murder? Sure. Why not? I did it all.

I’m the criminal of the century. I deserve everything I have coming to me.

The only thing I don’t give them is Charlie’s name.

“For the last time,” Nunes says, “who is the Polecat?”

“I can’t say.”

“You mean you won’t say.”

“Right.”

“You admit that you know the identity of the Polecat?”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t tell us?”

“Correct.”

“The Polecat sold you out, Otto. You’re here. She’s free.”

For some reason, Nunes has started using my first name. Almost like we’re pals.

“That’s true.”

“Why are you being such a chump?”

I take a sip of the coffee. It’s so bad it reminds me I’m alive.

“That’s my way.”

“You’re not helping yourself,” Nunes says.

“Believe me, I know.”

“You remember the deal you asked about for the Polecat?”

“Sure.”

“About not going in the mainline?”

“Yes.”

“Protective custody?”

“I remember.”

“Well, I can get that for you, too. But only if you give me a name.”

“I’m not giving you her name.”

“You know what’ll happen if you end up in the same ward as Frankie Nickels?”

“We’ve been over this before.”